


a kiss, a fist, a temporary goodbye

by sleeponrooftops



Series: raising webhead: a parenting guide, attempted by the science boyfriends [58]
Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Incredible Hulk - All Media Types
Genre: Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 07:03:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeponrooftops/pseuds/sleeponrooftops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Peter’s birthday, but that doesn’t mean it’s a good day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a kiss, a fist, a temporary goodbye

_One month later._

_August, 2026_

 

“Okay, _look_ ,” Johnny says, yanking at Peter’s hair and pulling away from him, “What the hell?”

 

Johnny rolls off from on top of him and sits on the edge of the bed, and Peter frowns before shifting until he’s sitting next to him.  “Something wrong?” he asks, and Johnny just looks at him, eyes flicking over his face before he swears and stands, reaching for his boxers.

 

“I know it’s your fucking birthday, but I can’t—I can’t _do this_ , Peter,” he says, reaching for his pants next.

 

Peter follows his lead, not saying anything as he dresses.  He starts to pull his shirt back on, but he feels like he wants to hide, wants to pretend he’s not here, not fighting _again_ , so he opens one of his drawers and pulls out a sweatshirt.  It’s so big, he can pull it over his knees when he curls up, and he rests his chin on his knees, watching Johnny look for his shirt.  “It’s right there,” he mumbles finally, pointing across the room.

 

Johnny yanks it on and then turns around.  “What’s wrong?” he demands, folding his arms over his chest.

 

“What do you mean?”

  
“It’s your _birthday_ , Peter.  Our _two-year anniversary_ is in, like, a _week_ , and you can’t even manage a smile.  Am I doing something wrong?  Did I say something?  Did I _do_ something?  Please talk to me,” he ends softly, coming over and sitting next to him.  “Peter,” he whispers, wrapping both arms around him and scooting closer, “Talk to me.”

 

“I don’t think we should do this anymore,” Peter mumbles, and Johnny holds him for a few seconds more before he pulls away and stares at him.

 

“What?”  Peter squeezes his eyes shut and tries to will himself not to cry, but then Johnny is brushing a hand over his hair and saying, “Peter, please don’t say that.”

  
He feels like he’s suffocating suddenly, and he jerks away from Johnny and off the bed, not looking at him.  “We do _nothing_ but fight!” he shouts, and he flinches at his own voice, reaching up his hand to wipe at his face, staining the sleeve because it curls over his hand.

 

“We don’t always fight,” Johnny says quietly, eyes following him as Peter paces away, starts to pace back, and instead just drops into the corner, finally looking up at Johnny.

 

“You know that’s not true,” he says, shrugging, “More than half the time we’re together, if we’re not fucking around, we’re fighting.”  His tears are gone now, and his voice is steady, and he knows that’s what pisses Johnny off the most.

 

“How long have you been thinking this?” he demands, standing.  When Peter doesn’t respond, he storms over to him and yanks him to his feet, shaking him once, “ _Answer me_!”

 

“Get your hands off me!” Peter shouts, shoving Johnny back.  Johnny reaches for him wildly, and Peter lets a fist fly, seeing red.

 

When his vision clears, Johnny is staring at him in shock, holding his jaw, and Peter lets out a haggard breath, a broken noise filling the silence.  “You fucking—” and then Johnny’s on him.

 

Peter can count on one hand the times they’ve actually resorted to physical violence instead of just screaming at each other.  The first time was at the park, when he broke his arm; the second time was the first time they got together, shoving each other and swearing; the third time was the week before Peter moved out of the Tower, and he’d nearly broken Johnny’s nose after receiving a punch that left a nasty bruise over his ribs; but never have they fought like this before.

 

They roll across the floor until Johnny gets on top of him, knocking his arm back and punching him in the shoulder, and Peter yells, kicking out and sending Johnny flying.  He staggers to his feet, but then Johnny kicks at his ankles and sends him sprawling.  His fist comes soaring forward, and Peter swears loudly at him, kicking again, landing him in the chest this time, and Johnny sags backward at the same time the door swings open.

 

“Bruce!” Tony shouts, grabbing Johnny even as he lunges forward.

 

“Let me go!” Johnny screams, struggling, “I will _end_ you, Parker!”

 

“Bruce!”

 

“This is why!  This has always been why!” Peter screams back, and Johnny stops moving instantly.  Bruce comes running into the room and stops when Tony releases Johnny, looking over at Peter, who gets unsteadily to his feet, one hand over his nose.  “You—you do this, all the time,” he says, looking at Johnny, “You fuck with my head, and you never let me be happy!  Johnny, we—we were better friends, we always have been, and I love you, but I just— _hate_ you sometimes.”

 

“This is not about me!” Johnny shouts, stepping forward, and Tony starts to move toward him again, but Bruce holds him back, shaking his head.  “This is about everything else,” he hisses, getting in Peter’s face, “This is about all the shit that’s always been between us.”

 

“No.  It’s not,” Peter says, reaching out and putting a hand on Johnny’s chest, trying to move him backward, but Johnny slaps his hand away and shakes his head.

 

“I should have expected this from you.”

 

“Don’t leave like this,” Peter whispers, trying to reach for him, and Tony swears, jumping forward when Johnny shoves Peter backward, and he hits the floor with a thud.

 

“You’re done,” Tony says, dragging Johnny out of the room as Bruce runs over to Peter, helping him up.

 

“Are you okay?” he asks, taking his hand and pulling it back, frowning at his nose, “It looks broken.  Dad might be able to fix it if you don’t want to go to the hospital.”

 

“I really don’t,” Peter mumbles, and Bruce nods, helping him to his feet.

 

They go down into the lab, and Tony and Bruce clean up both of the boys before leaving them with a warning that they’ll be within earshot so they won’t fight again.  “I’m sorry,” Johnny says, not looking at him, “I shouldn’t have hit you.”

 

“Yeah, well—I hit you first, it’s only fair,” Peter says, shrugging before he hops off the desk and goes over to where Johnny’s sitting on the futon.  He sits down next to him, not touching, and he takes a breath before saying, “You know I love you, right?”

 

“Yeah, I do,” Johnny sighs, reaching over and taking his hand, “And you know I love you.”

 

“I know.  But this isn’t good anymore.  It isn’t healthy.  We never used to fight when we weren’t dating.”

 

Johnny lets out a hollow laugh, nodding, “Yeah, things were better then.  I’m glad we did date, though, and I want you to know—” he breaks off, silent for a few moments before he lifts Peter’s hand and kisses it.  He puts it back in his lap and says, “I want you to know I don’t blame you for still loving him.”

 

Peter finds he can’t breathe, but when Johnny pulls him into a hug, his breath rushes out, and he clings to him.  “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, and Johnny shakes his head.

 

“Don’t be.”  He pulls back and kisses Peter softly.

 

“Don’t leave me,” Peter pleads, and Johnny smiles sadly.

 

“Dude, you’re my best friend,” he says, “Just—let’s spend some time apart, and then we’ll get back to when everything’s better, okay?  I don’t ever want to not be your friend.”

 

“You’re my best friend, too, you know,” Peter says, matching his smile, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.  And Johnny—I’m glad you were my first, for a lot of things.  I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.”

 

“Yeah,” Johnny says, bumping shoulders with him, “I’m gonna leave.  Happy birthday, Peter.”  He gives him a last kiss before he gets up off the futon, and Peter watches him go, taking the stairs up out of the garage to the main road, where his motorcycle is waiting.  When he’s gone, Tony and Bruce come back in, and then Peter lets it all out, folding in on himself and sobbing while his dads hold him.


End file.
